Yeah, I’m still alive. Remember that thing I have about not saying anything if I have nothing to say? Sure, I had a thing or two to say in the recent past, but I also hate whining, and trust me – I would have been whining.
The end of this month should close out a two-month running battle with my local power company – which, of course, began just in time for the Christmas season. This culminated in an evening last week when I came home to a dark house, a pissed-off wife and a dismayed child. When enquiring of the phone drone why I had dropped over a grand in the past month to my energy overlords and still had the result stay the same as if I had kept the money for myself… well, they had managed to misplace one of those payments, but it mysteriously turned up just after the disconnect notice was issued, so I should have power back by 9 o’clock that evening.
For 9 o’clock that evening, please read in 24-48 hours.
All this was exacerbated by a week in which my bank, for reasons unknown even to them, froze my account for a week (a week in which another of these exorbitant payments was to be siphoned out, of course). When confronted about this, the bank officer admitted there was no good reason for it, there was no way to rescind it for another 48 hours, muttered something about the Patriot Act, and shuffled his feet uncomfortably.
I wish I was kidding about the Patriot Act in that last paragraph.
There are some bright spots in there, somewhere. Um. Err…
Uh… the cats managed to drop Max’s Game Boy Advance into water (snickering like Muttley the whole time, I’m sure), rendering it in operable, and I managed to get it running again.
There. That ended everything on a up note, dinnit?
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